Expectations
by InMySundayBest
Summary: Follow on from 'Neighborhood Watch'. Deeks isn't very good at dealing with unexpected emotions.


**Hey there! I've actually had this written for about a week now but I was too much of a wimp to post it so I really hope you like it. ****Feedback is always appreciated. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot. Not that there's very much of one.**

* * *

The scotch is on the rocks when it's placed before him. Not his usual order.

He glances up slightly in confusion and catches the eye of the bartender with eyebrows raised. Tom, with his typical bartender name, cocks his head to a table at the back of the room in brief response and returns to cleaning his pint glasses in the typical bartender fashion.

Marty Deeks cannot be sure if he wants to deal with this tonight. He can think of several things he would rather be doing in fact. Boarding a plane to just about anywhere is at the top of this list if only he had remembered to renew his passport last month. However, the fallout from his latest op will attack regardless of the state he chooses to hide in and Deeks cannot put it off for much longer.

Instead he settles for allowing himself a few moments nursing the alien drink between his palms and imagining all the possible ways he could just walk out and never look back. He'd be as dramatic as possible, of course, standing suddenly and tossing a few notes on the bar, nodding soundly to Tom and striding with his head held high to the door. It's there that he would pause, with one hand on the door, and turn his head to glance across the room before pushing the heavy wood open for the last time. It's nice to imagine that would be the final time any of them ever saw him but the likelihood is that he'd only be able to drop of the radar for a week. Tops.

Eventually he would need to access his bank, or return home for Monty, or visit his Mum and God only knows it would be impossible for him to leave L.A. for good.

He doesn't feel guilty for contemplating leaving - it isn't like any of them have never thought about it before when things began to get heavy. He swears he even spotted one of those anytime airline vouchers on Kensi's bookcase once.

God, Kensi. His brain hurts to think about the mess they've somehow managed to create in his brain in just a few short weeks. Of course it will breeze by completely unacknowledged by both of them. They'll just push it aside to gather cobwebs with the rest of their steadily growing circus of elephants. The thought that they will never discuss this particular issue doesn't sit very comfortably next to Deeks though.

He swirls the amber liquid in the glass and remembers how he _really _doesn't like scotch. He throws it back in one and feels it burn a path down his throat. He really can't help the face he pulls as he's sure Tom cannot help the amused chuckles that escape in response.

"Just preparing my gameface Tom," assures Deeks as he rises from his stool and stretches his shoulders out.

"Ach, don't you be worryin' there Marty, she's only a little thing," Tom smiles kindly in response. Deeks shrugs and his own smile comes easily for the barman whom he considers an old friend.

"Nah man, it's the small ones you have to watch out for." He turns and makes his way towards the four-foot hurricane waiting patiently for him to join her in a booth at the rear of the bar.

* * *

She doesn't look up from the case file she's reading as he hovers uncomfortably at the edge of the table. He clears his throat but he knows she's already perfectly aware of his presence.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to join me Mr Deeks," states the lady as she finally looks up from the paper, greeting the detective with a warm smile, "please, take a seat."

Deeks slides onto the green leather bench opposite her and glances down at the file between them. She doesn't seem to want to discuss that quite yet though, a fact she punctuates by clasping her surprisingly delicate hands together atop it.

"How are you Hetty?" he asks, recalling that the last time she came here was to offer him a position at NCIS. He briefly wonders if she's here to terminate it but he can't think why she would. Though he can understand that she might worry about his position with the team, and in particular Kensi. Especially after the last op.

"I'm very well, thank you Mr. Deeks and I trust that you are too?"

Deeks nods and returns Hettys stare as she peers at him across the table. "I must say that your choice in 'local watering hole', as they say, is much nicer than many of the others'. Mr Beales choice bar is extremely loud in comparison."

Deeks laughs and feels himself ease up. The tiny lady appears to be in more of a jovial mood than the concerned one that he had feared. Concerned people want answers and Deeks really didn't have any to offer tonight.

"I've been coming hear since I started at the LAPD, sometimes Tom feels generous and gives me one on the house." He feels a spurt of pleasure as Hetty nods allowing a wistful smile to grace her features.

"It reminds me of a little teahouse I would go to every Wednesday when I lived in Shanghai. A tea girl there would sit with me and tell me tales of her childhood."

As Hetty dons her reminiscent expression, Deeks cannot help speculating on what she'll say next. She certainly didn't come to discuss Toms' bar or her adventures in Shanghai.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here," she observes and once again he wonders if she's a mind reader. He tries to picture her on a surfboard with a monkey but since her expression doesn't change, he figures he's safe from her freaky mind powers for the moment. "I received these photos found amongst our culprits' possessions and I couldn't help but notice that yourself and Miss Blye played your parts very well on our most recent operation."

There it is. The topic he has been steadily avoiding in his mind all evening.

Deeks inwardly groans and whacks his head off the polished mahogany table. He really wishes he had stayed home tonight; surely his boss wouldn't turn up at his house for this particular conversation. One that he _so_ doesn't want to have right now. Or ever.

"Just doing our jobs," he shrugs hoping that she might, maybe, possibly, _hopefully _drop the subject and tell him that she actually really wants to discuss a team bonding trip to Vegas.

"And what a great job you both did, Mr Deeks. But that is not what I'm concerned with," she pauses it seems, to find her words, "Both you and Miss Blye are _excellent_ agents and I knew when you joined my team that your partnership together would blossom." She stops again and Deeks feels a sticky heat spreading across his palms.

He isn't going to pretend that he doesn't know exactly where she's going with this. It was obvious from the moment he left ops earlier that evening that Hetty would have something to say to him on the matter of his partnership with Kensi. She couldn't have missed the gravity that had shifted between them both when they were leaving. She has to be wondering, for the sake of their team, what to expect.

Deeks himself didn't want to reflect on the fact that he hadn't anticipated any of this. He didn't want to think about the onslaught of unexpected feelings that launched their attack when Kensi kissed him. He didn't expect to be disappointed when she pulled away. He didn't expect her to brush it off afterwards causing an unfamiliar sting that he can still feel lingering around his bones. And he certainly didn't expect this tsunami of emotions that he_ really_ doesn't want to be having for his partner. He finds it almost funny in a way because it's usually the big waves that he paddles for, but he knows undoubtedly that if anyone can surf this wave it will be Kensi Blye and her no-nonsense surfboard. He doubts he will even manage to handle the ripples.

Hetty turns the page in the file before her to reveal a photograph taken from a distance of Kensi in her running gear facing Deeks in his pyjamas on their front street. They're talking and smiling and it looks like a lovely day.

Deeks remembers the morning well – it was only a few days ago. Just after the photo was taken they had returned inside where Kensi had showered and changed while Deeks made them both pancakes and bacon for a breakfast that involved more throwing of the food than actual eating. The day really had been beautiful.

"I fear that perhaps -despite our conversation the other day- there may be some… _unresolved_ feelings between yourself and Miss Blye." Hetty watches Deeks carefully but he has already formed a response.

The smooth-talking lawyer part of his brain has returned to the game and he knows he has a case here. He is also suddenly very aware that he didn't include his impromptu kiss with Kensi in his report and he is almost certain that she did the same. "You really got that from a picture? _That picture?_ There's about three feet of space between us and I have to tell you, that girl does _not_ look good after a run. Trust me Hetty, you have nothing to worry about here."

He throws her a lopsided grin and prays for a miracle in that she actually believes him. Her eyes narrow slightly as she hums in response and he knows that miracles only happen in movies.

Hetty sweeps the photo back between the sheets of the yellow file and rises from the booth. "So I suppose we will be choosing to ignore this conversation then Mr. Deeks? Just as you continue to do when difficult situations arise between you and your partner."

It is then that Deeks knows that she has somehow once again used her all-knowing powers to uncover the truth. She would make an excellent hero in one of the many comic book series that he used to read. It should be an endearment really, so Deeks chooses to drop his pretences and go with straightforward honesty, "it meant nothing to Kensi and I- I think it's best if we just leave it Hetty." After all, she would never buy anything else.

"And what happens when that rug isn't big enough for you both to sweep everything under, Mr Deeks? What happens then?"

"Well I'm sure Kensi will have a larger one hidden in her apartment somewhere that we can use."

He is thoroughly relived when Hetty laughs and shakes her head. Subject dropped. "Let us hope. Goodnight Mr Deeks."

"Night Hetty."

The lady that he holds in such high regard sweeps out of the bar and Deeks can't help but drop his head against the table, this time for real. He doesn't know what to think. He isn't even really sure what just happened but apparently Hetty got the information she came for and left satisfied.

"Is it women troubles?" Toms voice pulls his head up vertical. He has drifted over to grab Hetty's empty tumbler and Deeks follows him back to his stool at the end of the bar.

"Isn't it always?"

"Well, I reckon that's somethin' I can help you with mate. The bars pretty quiet, you wanna do shots?"

* * *

His watch tells him it's just after two am when he arrives at her apartment. The dark street is still and he is hyperaware of every sound he makes. He shouldn't be there. He _knows_ he shouldn't be there. And still he is.

There is flickering light behind her living room curtains so he figures she's still up. He won't be waking her. He stumbles a little and he thinks that maybe he shouldn't have had that fourth shot. Usually he can handle his tequila quite well but that doesn't stop him feeling a little unsteady afterward.

When he trips on the stairs leading up to her door he begins to wonder if he should wait until his head isn't _quite _so cloudy before he does this. But he wouldn't be here if he was sober. He would be steadily ignoring the whole thing. He'd be trying not to think about all those nagging feelings and that stupid kiss and the fact that the past few weeks have been amazing. He'd really be trying hard to ignore how much he hadn't wanted the op to end.

But she liked it too. She said so herself that day on the couch with a bag of peas against her arm and a coy smile on her lips. Her very kissable lips.

Deeks groans and half sits, half falls onto the steps resting his head in his arms. He doesn't know what he's doing here or what he plans to say to her. He should go home and greet her on Monday morning with coffee and waffles and he'll make some crude joke about his weekend of freedom without her general mess and she'll throw a witty response back and they'll just get on with their lives like nothing ever happened. It's what she expects him to do. It's what Hetty expects him to do. Hell, it's what _he_ expects him to do.

But all these emotions were so unexpected that somehow Mondays routine just feels unsatisfying. And yet, Deeks knows he will do it because the alternative -actually _talking_ to her about all this seems even more unrealistic.

As he stands up to leave, a sense of vertigo barrel rolls through his already cloudy mind and he tumbles backwards, arms flailing, landing roughly against her front door with a dull thud. It vaguely registers with him that that was something he really didn't want to do and he scrambles back up to his feet, leaning heavily against her building.

He isn't too surprised when her door is thrown open and his face is greeted with plaid pyjamas and the one-eyed glare of her gun. "Deeks?"

"Uh, hey Kens."

"What are you doing here?" She lowers her gun but he still steps back slightly. Her narrowed eyes and flushed cheeks suggest that she's not completely against pistol-whipping him across the face. Especially since it's two-thirty and he still hasn't answered her question. He _really_ shouldn't have had that fourth shot.

"Oh, well, uh, ah, youkissedme."

He can't help it.

"What?"

It just came out.

"You kissed me."

Tequila is no longer his friend.

"Wha- Deeks, have you been drinking?"

She looks really cute when she's confused.

"A little. I think I need to go home."

"You walked all the way here? From your apartment?"

"From the pub, my car's there. I think."

Kensi sighs and drops her gun down on the table by the door. She runs her hand through her wavy hair and Deeks _really_ wishes he hadn't bothered her. He's turning to leave when she starts talking again. "Well I'm not driving you home now, you can sleep on my couch tonight if you want? I was just going to bed anyway."

The walk home is a good three miles and he's almost certain he won't make it that far before he passes out on someone's lawn. And he knows from past experience that her couch is very comfy. "Oh, okay thanks."

Deeks follows her inside and flops facedown on her couch while she locks up behind him. It really is a comfy couch. He moves to sit up when he feels her nudge his leg and she hands him a glass of water that he reckons he probably needs. A black and white movie flickers on the TV screen as she curls up beside him taking up an impossibly small area of the couch.

"Kensi, I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to come here tonight." He hurries to apologise in an attempt to break the awkwardness he's feeling. She hasn't looked at him since he entered her house and it's making him uncomfortable.

"I shouldn't have kissed you," she blurts and he's too stunned to stop her continuing. "There were other ways we could have covered, I know. I wasn't thinking. But Deeks, it was just a cover, it didn't mean anything, it _can't_ mean anything."

"Can't it Kens?" he doesn't believe her and she knows it.

She looks right at him now, her eyes wide and she's almost pleading. _Don't push this one Deeks_. She looks so vulnerable that Deeks isn't sure what to think. He wishes, not for the first time, that they just say exactly what they feel but he knows it won't happen. That _they_ can never happen.

Maybe that fourth shot wasn't such a bad idea after all.

He finds himself nodding and offers her a lopsided grin. "Well hey, at least we don't have to share a bed anymore right. Because honestly? I can really do without your body trying subconsciously to batter me in your sleep."

Kensi's laughter is relief and when her hand slaps his arm it doesn't deliver nearly as much sting as usual. That's the most they will ever talk about it, the furthest under the rug that they will ever venture and he still isn't sure if he's okay with that. Apparently she is though.

"Right, I really am going to bed now. Alone." She gets up and makes her way to the bedroom, "there's a blanket under the couch." The door closes behind her with a soft click.

After a quick rummage, Deeks finally locates a tartan blanket amongst her mess, removes his shoes and settles down for the night. With a sigh he stares at the ceiling and wonders if he and Kensi could ever be something more. He knows they'd be amazing. They could probably make it as long as he fed her junk food addiction and she was willing to put up with his constant supply of show tunes and innuendos.

With another sigh he fidgets to get comfy and realises that this will be the first night he has slept without her beside him for two weeks. Of course, it would be ridiculous to expect that sleep would come easily tonight.

It doesn't occur to him that she's having similar thoughts until he hears the soft click of her bedroom door a few minutes later and, in the night time gloom, he feels her slight frame crawl in beside him under the soft blanket and snuggle down against his chest.

"Goodnight Deeks," she whispers, her hot breath fanning delicately across his collarbone.

If it weren't so dark she'd easily spot wide grin on his face as he realises that she curls into the automatic arm that he wraps around her back, firmly holding her against him. She is hoping he will remain there all night and, in the morning, she will definitely want his bacon pancakes for breakfast.

And this time, Marty Deeks is completely willing to comply with all that is expected of him.


End file.
